


The Dull Shine of the Blue Sea Star

by SabineElectricHeart (TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns)



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-08
Updated: 2021-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-14 09:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29915076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLifeAndLiesOfFerns/pseuds/SabineElectricHeart
Summary: After the Immaculate One dies, Byleth’s Crest Stone heart disappears. Her biological one does not kick up.
Relationships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/My Unit | Byleth
Kudos: 10





	The Dull Shine of the Blue Sea Star

Her soft green hair fell back from her shoulders, the wind causing the locks to brush against his cheek. Their hands squeezed together and their fingers stuck in a tight bond. It was a cold, dark evening in Fhirdiad, and everything was silent, as if preparing for the vigils that would inevitably come.

They knew, from monitoring the roads linking the city to the plains inland, that it was not evacuated. If there were no ferries out, which was unlikely due to being only the beginning of Spring and the waters were still too tempestuous, almost all residents were in their homes.

The Emperor stood in front of them, selecting those who would invade the city with her. Sylvain knew the choice was already made, and it was not Edelgard who decided it. This was pure theatre, but he did not mind, or rather, he preferred it so. Such a situation made his girlfriend less of a target for political murder, and he does not feel any particular devotion to his adopted sovereign.

The Black Eagle Strike Force would invade the castle, while him and a few other mages would help evacuating the civilians and fighting any militias that appeared in the narrow, uneven streets. No surprises there.

Ostensively, the redhead was left out of the main attack because he was the one who knew the city best, but he knows the truth. The Emperor does not trust him, and so it would be preferrable if he just kept out of the way while the elites handled the dirty work.

Sylvain had not seen Gautier in over five years. He spent all his time in Adrestia as military police, trying to keep the peace in the home front and order in the army. Faerghus is, effectively as of last night, part of the Empire. Yet, after all this, he is still seen as a foreigner in the Imperial Army, and most importantly, amongst the Black Eagles he risked his life to protect.

Oh, he gets along swimmingly with Dorothea, and has a strange but highly-functioning relationship with Bernadetta, but he absolutely loathes everyone else there. From Ferdinand’s incessant self-aggrandizing to Linhardt’s nonchalant demeanour, he finds his commanders to be absolutely nightmarish.

Though, to be fair, every friend he ever had was now dead and rotting in the Tailtean Plains, so perhaps he was right in following his brain rather than his heart on that one.

He did not follow his brain, did he? He followed his girlfriend. Byleth Eisner was the professor of the Black Eagles, their very beating heart, which was rather ironic, as she did not have a heartbeat of her own. She knew the Church the best, and if she says they are rotten to the core, then he believes it. No questions asked.

Considering Rhea’s behaviour these past few years, the nobleman wagers he was also right on that front.

Byleth’s position amongst the Black Eagles was incontestable. It was clear to see how much the Emperor adored her professor, and most of her former students love her just as much, but this does not translate in her fitting in with them. They were traditionalist nobles, focused on politics and etiquette. They were lovingly dismissive of the simple habits and preferences of a girl that was birthed into bloody militia conflicts.

He gets that, as he did not fit in the ideals of martial grandiose that permeated so thoroughly Faerghus culture. This is why, in fact, they became so attached with one another. Just a pair of misfits banding together. When it came time to transfer classes, he knew he would not feel comfortable amongst the Eagles, either, but he preferred the mercenary over the creepy Crest scholar as an advisor.

The invading strike force was saying their goodbyes to those who would stay behind when the fire broke out. Her heart dropped when she heard an unknown voice speak up.

“Your Majesty!” A soldier alerted them suddenly. “There's smoke coming from every corner of the capital! It seems they've set fire to the city!”

“What?! Damn it, Rhea. There really is no depth you wouldn't sink into.” The Emperor barked. “Everyone, we must commence our attack at once. Are you ready?”

Byleth felt his grip on her hand loosen before completely disappearing. He stood there for a moment, looking down at the girl he was so in love with for the past five years of his short and miserable life.

“I am sorry…” Sylvain whispered. “It is going to be alright. I love you, Byleth.”

Before she could say anything, the nobleman kissed the top of her head before making his way through the crowd. He directed the mounted soldiers to various neighbourhoods, in sights to save as many people as they could. The bugle calls of distress were sounded through the city, as citizens ran towards the invading army as a liberation force.

Fhirdiad was in the middle of a plain, between Tailtean and Itha, but the castle was located on a steep hill on the far northeast side of the city. The tall watching towers of grey stone were visible everywhere from the estuary harbour to the southern gates leading to Arianrhod and Gaspard.

As such, all the people in the city could see the large, grey dragon howling and the large golems that emerged in the upper neighbourhoods. If the invasion was lost, it was clear for all who wanted to see that the Church of Seiros was a monstruous cabal. The war was won either way.

The investiture towards the dragon was slow and painful. The fire was out by three hours past midnight, but by the time the strike force was able to reach the steps to the castle, the morning sun was peeking timidly from the Ogma Mountains.

Sylvain managed to cross the mostly cleared battlefield with rather ease while mounted on his steed, even if the area still mostly burned. Eyes danced along the scene in front of him, deciding to jump into action. He yanked his lance from the holster, trying to assure the retreating Black Eagles a safe escape.

From a few yards, as he fought desperate Church soldiers ready to die for their cause, he could see Edelgard dealing the final blow to the Immaculate One, who fell spilling rich and sickly green blood on the stone paved floors of the formerly Blaiddyd castle.

Before he could ride ahead, though, Sylvain saw as life left the body of his intended, as a spirit that left her body into the skies, fear and dread rupturing through his chest.

It all felt like time froze right then and there for the redhead. Hubert rushed to grip his arm, no doubt wondering that, now that the professor is dead, Sylvain is a terrorist in potential. The cavalier, however, was much stronger than the sickly-looking warlock, and so managed to slip out, running straight towards his lover.

Gripping Byleth in his arms, he dropped to the ground with her, eyes brimming with pain and sorrow. Tears rolled down his cheeks, dripping into her hair as he shook his head. To his side, Edelgard was also crying unconsolably, hanging on to a piece of lace as if it held the deed to the Empire.

“No, you are not allowed, professor.” He bawled like he had not ever since he was a three-year-old boy. “You are not allowed to leave me here like this. I need you. You are all I have and I cannot just let go like this.”

Each hectic battle around them seemed to disappear as they spent their last few moments together. The Gautier heir cried out in genuine pain, watching as his lover’s eyes fell closed in a permanent slumber. Nobody had ever quite seen the young man that deeply hurt, he was not one to ever show his real emotions. A deep feeling of defeat rushed through him, sobbing into the girl’s chest. He hoped he would hear a breath, but the silence only broke him more.

As Hubert rushes ahead to console his sovereign, Sylvain is left alone in the courtyard. He does not know for how long he is there crying, for a moment or for hours, until a warm hand holds his shoulders.

“Come on, Sylvain.” The voice was clipped and restrained, as if holding in deep sadness, but no less melodious. “You need a bath. The soldiers will carry the body inside, and we will be able to give her the proper rites this afternoon.”

“I can’t, Dorothea. Not right now.” He said between hiccups. “Just leave me here for a while, will you?”

“Very well, but don’t mind if I stay with you.” She conceded, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and letting the tears fall from her shiny eyes.

Sylvain looked up, the dark clouds over Fhirdiad fading away. The war was over and the Church was banished forever. He clung to Byleth’s body, rocking her back and forth as soft begs for her to wake up spewed from his chapped lips. He pulled back for a moment, glancing over her motionless frame when his eyes caught sight of something sticking out of her corset. His fingers slipped into the fabric, pulling out a neatly folded piece of paper, stuffing it into his own pocket.

* * *

Weeks and Moons had passed Sylvain by. He returned to Gautier, to claim his territory back, finding little on the way of resistance. His parents fled to Sreng, and it seems they were not going to be back anytime soon.

By decree of the Emperor, the great commander of the Unification Wars would be memorialized on a monument in Enbarr, where she would have her final rest in august adoration of the subjects.

As such, Sylvain moved to the capital and spent as much of his time in the city as he possibly could. He would visit Byleth’s grave every day late in the afternoon, just before the sunset, leaving a single valerian flower at the headstone.

Sylvain still had not opened the paper he had found in his intended’s clothes, but he often would stare at it at night before he went to bed. Something about it all seemed different one very specific night.

It was the 27th of Horsebow Moon, Byleth’s twenty-seventh birthday and the two had plans to celebrate it in the Goddess Tower at midnight with a dance before sneaking down to the lawn to stargaze. His arms rested against the railing that went along the burial monument, clutching the paper in his hands.

With shaky fingers, the redhead nobleman unfolded the paper, smiling sadly when he saw her beautiful handwriting. He had become so accustomed to her writing, since she would always write him letters, in place of the speech she felt so impeded with at times.

Sucking in a deep breath, Sylvain began to take in each word neatly etched onto the paper.

_28 th of the Great Tree Moon, Imperial Year 1186_

_Sylvain,_

_I hate that I am writing this, but there is always the instance of a defeat against Rhea. If I am being completely candid, I do not think I will be walking out that castle tomorrow morning. Rhea created me, surely she knows of ways to dispose of me just as swiftly._

_That being said, I cannot in good conscience leave you empty-handed if something happened to me, could I? I plan to burn this missive if I somehow live, so I must assume something has happened if you are reading this. I feel ashamed to say that the thought of you getting over me makes me sick to my stomach, but I also would feel absolutely devastated if you are sad forever and I do not want you to spend all of your life mourning me._

_Smile because it happened, Sylvain, do not cry that it is over. The time we spent together has meant the absolute world to me and I would not trade a second of them for anything in the universe._

_Never forget that I loved you more than life itself and I always will. You, Sylvain, will always be the forever owner of my heart. Do not hold yourself back, do not let your heart grow cold. Find someone and love them the way you loved me for all these years. Do not spare your happiness._

_With all the love in the universe,_

_~B_

Hot tears welled in the man’s eyes, picking up a small locket on his coat, the locket that Byleth had gifted Sylvain that first Saint Seiros Day, when he promised to be a better man to deserve her affections.

Opening it, his heart warmed at the small tuft of azure blue hair tied in black lace preserved with care inside. His intended had not sat for any portraits, and the Emperor refused, with Sylvain’s support, refused to memorialize her likeness in the tomb. This small relic is all he has to remember the love of his life. This, and now this letter.

Closing the locket and siding the chain around his neck, Sylvain looked down at the pendant resting on his chest. A soft sigh fell from him as he looked out along the large and empty square by the soft rolling of the rivers draining Enbarr, silence surrounding him as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

The young man stepped back from the railing and wrapped one hand around the pendant, holding it close to his heart.

“Happy birthday, Byleth.” His voice was soft as his amber eyes settled on the brightest star up in the sky.

Whether or not they actually killed the Goddess, he knows not, but he hopes he is able to meet her in the Blue Sea Star someday.


End file.
